


What Was the Answer?

by Apricitic



Series: The Stray Series [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 15:03:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6615175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apricitic/pseuds/Apricitic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lila sits on a rooftop, eating gelato. A quick one-shot follow-up to Stray.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Was the Answer?

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the person, who wants to remain anonymous, who so nicely messaged me with questions about my last fic, about some loose ends and what happened to a couple of characters in it. I hope it answers your questions. You're right-- not everything could be solved so neatly.
> 
> This short bit will make more sense if you've read all of Stray first. Apologies, it was written quickly on my break at work, and is a little rough and unpolished. Also, if anyone else has any questions or wants to see more like this, please feel free to let me know. Don't be nervous of me! I promise I won't bite. :)

Lila sat on the roof of the building across from the art gallery, eating gelato. She wrinkled her nose, prodding at the toppings. She didn’t care much for strawberries. Freeing a small pile of the sliced fruit with her spoon, she lifted them up, then deposited them into the other gelato cup next to her.

Ebbe, the fox kwami, struggled to lift a spoon almost as big as he was, in his cup. He scoffed as it slipped on the cold dessert, frustrated. _Humans and their inventions. It was bad enough, learning to deal with your chopsticks. Now we’re back to ladle-like instruments again? Make up your minds!_

“It’s called a ‘spoon’,” Lila said. “And you don’t have to use it. I just don’t want you complaining about being left out again.”

_Yeah right. If I dive in the normal way, you’ll judge me for not following your customs, won’t you?_

"I’m the last one who would care,” Lila said, shrugging. “There’s literally grand theft happening right below us. You’re not going to be the rudest one here just because you shirk a little table etiquette.”

As if to punctuate her words, Chat Noir suddenly let out a surprised yelp from the courtyard below. A loud banging sound, and then a flash of light as something exploded. Either the robbers were throwing grenades, or, more likely, one of Peacock’s new gadgets had misfired again. Lila took another bite of gelato, watching an interestingly-plumaged bird flutter around nearby, pecking at a rain gutter.

“Enjoying your snack?”

They looked up. Wayzz rose over the brim of the rooftop’s edge in front of them, frowning. A wireless earpiece communicator dangled from his hands.

“Good afternoon, Wayzz,” Lila said, digging her spoon into the melty part of the gelato. The early spring sun was warmer than usual, today. “Do you like granola? I told them to leave it off, but they forgot, and neither Ebbe nor I care for it. I’d hate for it to go to waste.”

Wayzz sighed, holding out the communicator. “Master would like words with you.”

“Again?” Lila reluctantly sat her cup down on the tile next to her, and slid toward the edge, glancing down at the street below. In front of the art gallery, Chat Noir, Ladybug, and Peacock were all very focused, fighting off the nearly dozen intruders who had been trying to get away with a priceless painting.

Nino, on the other hand, stood at the foot of the building where she sat, looking up at her, arms folded. She sighed and took Wayzz’s communicator, fitting it to her ear and flipping the switch. “Yes?”

“We could use your help down here,” he said into his own earpiece.

“Why?” she asked, watching Peacock, slightly singed from the earlier explosion, fight off two full-grown men at once. “It seems to be going well.”

“Lila,” Nino said slowly. “I’m trying to be polite here. We’re all part of a team, and--”

“I never agreed to be part of your team.”

“Regardless. The others are all working hard. It’s only fair for you to pull your weight.”

“Why?” Lila asked, bewildered. “They’re just normal guys. They don’t even have superpowers! I mean, _you’re_ not transformed, Nino.”

“That’s different.” Nino pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting frustration. “We’re trying to save power boosting for special occasions, where we really need it. If they grow to rely on it, they’ll be weaker if I’m ever not around. It’s better if I don’t transform unless it’s an emergency. But there’s no reason for you to not join in. Why do you even show up if you’re not going to help?”

“It gets me an excused absence from school,” Lila replied. Not that she needed it. It turned out that if she left an illusion of herself in her seat while she spent a few hours as Volpina, having fun, it was rare for anyone to notice the difference.

“Lila!” Nino said, exasperated. “Look, I get it. Miraculouses are fun. We’re all guilty of using them for personal things sometimes. But when bad things happen, it’s time to stop playing around and step up. Don’t make me go all Alya on you, about great power and great responsibility and all of that.”

“Oh, please,” Lila said, rolling her eyes. “You’re still playing around, and you know it. You think these guys are any sort of a threat? _one_ of us could stop them all, if we had to. Look at you all! We used to fight supervillains, people with incredible powers-- sometimes even literal gods. _That_ was fun. What are we now? Glorified mall cops, the guys the real cops call in when they don’t feel like leaving the office. I refuse to be a part of it.”

“Come _on,_ ” Nino said, shaking his head. “You can do better than that. Think of it as practice, so we can learn the best ways to work as a team. Right? What if one day we really need you?”

“Then I’ll be there, that day,” Lila said, sitting back. “Like you said, when it’s an emergency. But Papillon is gone. There aren’t anymore supervillains, and there isn’t anymore actual evil. Just small-time crooks and petty theft. And I’m bored of it.”

“Lila, please--”

She snapped the dial around, clicking the communicator off. Then pulled it off, holding it out to Wayzz.

“Keep it,” he said quietly.

“Suit yourself. Doesn’t mean I’m leaving it turned on, though.” She settled back in beside Ebbe, picking her cup of gelato back up. Half-melted now. Stupid boyscouts.

She took a bite, then looked up, quirking an eyebrow. “Not going to fly away, turtle? What was it Nino was just saying, about great responsibility or whatever?”

“I, also, would like to speak with you.”

“Agh, is there anyone that _doesn’t_ want to give me a lecture, lately?!”

“You and Ebbe both,” Wayzz pressed. “When are you going to come visit Master Fu? He’s already offered to move around all of his appointments to fit your schedule.”

“We’ve already told you,” Lila said. “We’re not interested in ‘purifying’ Ebbe or whatever. He’s fine the way he is!”

“You’ve told me that,” Wayzz said, before looking toward the fox kwami. “I should like to hear it from Ebbe himself.”

Ebbe glared at him.

“He doesn’t like to talk to others,” Lila said. “Heck, he barely likes to talk to me. He was sealed away for-- how many centuries was it, again? A lot.” He had gotten used to being ignored. Lila could identify with that.

“Indeed,” Wayzz said gently. “And who could blame you, Ebbe? What was it, six generations of thieves who passed you down, mother to daughter? All using you for evil, selfish purposes. That much dark energy must have been so painful. I am sorry. We tried to get you back, we really did. It remains one of Master Fu’s greatest regrets, and my own.”

Ebbe rolled his eyes, looking away. Lila glanced at him, interested. She had known he had been stolen, but she hadn’t known all of that. How had he ended up in an airport gift shop?

Wayzz drifted a little closer. “I know you don’t want to listen to me. I’ve been there. When a kwami has had dark energy, all they can feel is anger and sadness, and even those you know should be your friends seem dangerous and untrustworthy. But you can’t listen to that feeling, or it will only get worse. Let us help you. You’ll feel so much better, afterwards--”

“He doesn’t want to feel ‘better’,” Lila said. “He’s told me. You just want to brainwash him, to wipe away who he is right now so he can go back to being sweet and happy and easier to work with. That’s not right!”

“Neither is letting him stay the way he is right now,” Wayzz said, turning back to her. “He’s hurting and unhappy like this, Lila. And what’s worse, he’s dangerously full of dark energy. What happens if he absorbs more? If he reverts, like Nooroo did? With Ladybug all out of her own life energy, it would be an _incredibly_ dangerous situation for the whole planet. How can you risk that?”

“I’m not,” she said firmly, offended. “He’s with me now. He’s not _going_ to absorb any more dark energy, I’ll make sure of it. Since when have I used my powers for evil or selfishness? Not since I stopped being akumatized!”

“Selfishness can be passive as well as active,” Wayzz said. “Like sitting out while the others work hard down there. Or…” A small glance at Ebbe. “Like letting a friend continue to suffer, simply because you feel like he is your only friend, and it frightens you too much to think that you might lose him.”

Lila stared at him.

Wayzz looked up at her. “Well? Did I read that correctly?”

 _”Leave,”_ she hissed.

“Very well,” he said calmly. “But rest assured, this conversation is not over. I will continue to broach the subject as many times as I need to, until you see sense. After all.” A pained expression. “Ebbe is my friend too. Or he was, once. Even if he can’t remember anymore.”

The turtle kwami slowly turned, then hopped over the edge of the roof, floating down to rejoin his master. Lila watched him go, all appetite for the now mostly-melted gelato gone.

 

.:|:.

 

_I suppose I should thank you for standing up for me against the turtle idiot earlier._

“Yes,” Lila said, “I suppose you should.”

Silence. No thanks was offered.

Lila smiled to herself, amused. She hugged her bookbag to her chest, taking the scenic route home from school, as the sun slowly set in the distance. It was probably dangerous, to walk alone through back alleys like this, but why should she care? If someone tried to attack her, with Ebbe’s help, it would be almost fun to fend them off. “So. When are you going to start speaking to me out loud, so that people stop thinking I’m the crazy girl who’s always talking to herself?”

 _Depends,_ he purred, along their telepathic connection. _When are you finally going to give me the answer I asked for, so many months ago? If I remember correctly, it’s the only reason I bothered saving your miserable little life, isn’t it? I’m beginning to feel extorted._

Lila sighed. Most people only act selfishly, so why had Volpina sacrificed herself, knowing that she would probably die, to save Chat Noir and the others? That was what he had asked her, what he was sticking around to learn the answer to.

But… “I already told you,” Lila said. “I don’t remember.”

 _You say that,_ he said, stopping to inspect a faded graffiti design on one of the walls for a moment, before zooming ahead to hover beside her again. _And yet, you can remember little things, like what color the floor of Alya’s kitchen is, despite not having stepped foot in there since. Papillon let you retain so much of your personality and free will that your memories of that time really shouldn’t be hampered much at all._

“Yeah, well, that mistake also allowed me enough free will to betray him in the end, didn’t it?” she said, shrugging. “I can remember everything Volpina did, but I can’t remember anything at all about what she _thought_. I can tell you everything that happened the moment she risked herself for Adrien, but I have no idea why she did it. Probably something cliche and stupid like love, right?”

 _I doubt it,_ Ebbe said, yawning. _Cliche stupidity was one of the few faults Volpina didn’t have. That’s more your territory._

“Gee, thanks.”

He smiled at her, starting to respond. Then stopped, suddenly, eyes widening, stiffening.

“What is it?” she asked.

 _Negative emotions, in the alley ahead. There’s a lot of them, if I can feel it from here._ A wince. _Someone is getting hurt._

And turtle boy and his friends weren’t around to handle it. She frowned, able to hear it now-- the distant, muffled sound of blows being delivered, someone gasping in pain. Nothing for it, she’d have to handle it herself. “Ebbe--”

 _Why?_ he growled, annoyed. _It has nothing to do with us. Hey, how do you know whoever-it-is doesn’t WANT to get beat up, huh?_

“Just shut up and transform me.”

She leaned into the transformation, as the chain around her neck tightened slightly, pouring energy over her. It stung, slightly. None of the other miraculous holders seemed to feel any pain when they transformed. But for her, as orange and white spread out to cover her body, there was that background sensation, mild burning, easy to push through, but not able to be entirely ignored.

As it finished up, rearranging her hair and forming a flute-staff in her hand, she sprang forward, around the corner, coming upon the scene all at once. She had been expecting a mugging, or maybe an argument that had turned sour. She skid to a stop at the dead-end alley’s opening, though, surprised. She hadn’t been expecting boys from her school.

They were older, and she recognized them from a grade or two above hers. Model students, mostly, the kind the teachers were always happy to have in their classes. They turned as she entered, recognizing her, already holding up their hands and stepping away obediantly.

She glanced down at the ground, at the boy laying face-down in the dirt, his mop of long red hair dirty and disheveled. He picked himself up, bruised and shaking, reaching for a tattered sketchbook laying two feet away. Someone had cruelly ripped half of the pages out, wadding or tearing them up and throwing them all over the place before stomping on the sketchbook itself.

“Nathanael?” Volpina asked, confused. He sat next to her in class every day, at the very back of the room. He was nice, but quiet, always keeping his head down. Despite that, he wasn’t quite small or pathetic enough to make an obvious target for bullies. What had he done, to pick a fight with upperclassmen?

He shrank away from her, as though expecting her to hit him too. And she saw it, then-- the boys must have held him down at some point, while they dumped paint on his shirt, a crude representation of a black butterfly.

Her eyes narrowed as she turned toward the upperclassmen. “If I catch you doing this again, next time, _you’ll_ be the ones walking away with bruises. Got it? You’ve got until I count down from ten to get out of my sight. Ten!”

Immediately, the upperclassmen turned and bolted, kicking up dust as they ran out of the alley in all directions.

Volpina exhaled and leaned down, picking up the sketchbook. She held it out toward him, frowning. “Sorry about them. Are you okay?”

He looked up at her for a moment, then averted his eyes and took the sketchbook. “Must be nice,” he said softly.

“Pardon?”

“You were akumatized, too, right? Willingly, even. I think… I remember that much.” He stood slowly, wiping dirt and blood from the side of his face with the back of one hand. “I wasn’t. I didn’t want any part of it. That butterfly just grabbed me, and… and…!” He shook his head. “I woke up months later, barely able to remember anything. And now everyone hates me. But they love you, for some reason.”

“You’re welcome,” she hissed. But she had to admit it. He was right. “This has happened to you before?”

“Not just to me. To most of the others. That’s how it is, now. If people know you were akumatized…” He shrugged. He didn’t have to explain. His current state was explanation enough. He trudged past her, hugging his ruined sketchbook to his chest, probably an incredible amount of hours of work destroyed in minutes.

She stepped out of his way, watching him go. He was upset. He didn’t want her talking to him right now.

Lila wasn’t the type of person who let others know when she was bothered. She acted cocky and self-assured as always on the way home, as though not a single thing were wrong. She prided herself on it, that no one could pick up on her secret insecurities.

Only Ebbe, so sensitive to negative emotions, could tell the truth. That every word of criticism spoken by Nino and Wayzz was sinking in deeply, and would keep her awake that night, doubting and second-guessing herself. And that, the next morning, sitting next to Nathanael in class, the guilt was tearing into her thought processes, keeping her too distracted to absorb anything the teacher was saying.

Visible from the window by her desk, out in the school’s courtyard, they were building a new statue. Ladybug and Chat Noir in the foreground (of course), with Peacock, Gamera, and Volpina supporting from the back, watching over the streets of Paris in bronze. She and Ebbe had made fun of it relentlessly for its cheesiness and artistic failings. Now, watching formerly akumatized classmates walk past it in between classes, heads bowed and eyes on the ground… It was strange, to feel shame at such a thing, for Volpina’s part in all of it.

She could feel Nino glancing back at her from his seat in the front of the room, just for a moment, before turning back to his book. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of thinking he’d gotten through to her, that she was going to apply herself because of him or anything. But for the sake of people like Nathanael… She gripped her pencil, mental wheels already turning. She would find a way to help.


End file.
